


Magneto Threat Issued

by blarfkey



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Cranky Erik, Established Relationship, M/M, Mutant Husbands, Old Cherik, Old mutants in love, Protective Erik, Religious Bigotry, exasperated Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blarfkey/pseuds/blarfkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one talks shit about renowned mutant activist Charles Xavier. At least, not while renowned mutant terrorist Erik Lehnsherr is still on the loose . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magneto Threat Issued

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授权翻译]Magneto Threat Issued 万磁王威胁事件](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601172) by [Shame_i_translate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shame_i_translate/pseuds/Shame_i_translate)



> Based on this lovely tumblr post: http://bubblegumbambi.tumblr.com/post/86626715320/when-people-talk-shit-about-charles-xavier
> 
> It's also posted at my tumblr, if anyone wanted to reblog it. :)
> 
> http://blarfkey.tumblr.com/post/109926612646/bubblegumbambi-when-people-talk-shit-about

_“Once again the mutant terrorist known as Magneto has made headlines, this time making threats to the Republican politician Paul Wright. These threats appeared in less than twenty four hours after the live debate between mutant geneticist Charles Xavier and Paul Wright. . .”_

Hank pinches the bridge of his nose. That debate had dissolved into a catty nightmare. Wright had gotten so red in the face during Charles’ rebuttals Hank thought the guy would have a heart attack right there on the stage. Sound bites of their arguments started circling the news channels less than two hours after the debate ended. Now Channel Three news mixes these sound bites with quotes from Erik’s threatening letter to Wright.

“Magneto has threatened to, quote, rip the church down rivet by rivet and raze it to the ground, end quote, unless Wright issues Xavier a formal apology for his now infamous remarks. Xavier is currently unavailable for comment.”

Little Kitty Pyride doesn’t bat an eyelash at violence of the threat. She has heard so many, some much worse than that, in the short year of her stay so far.

Charles massages his temples. “I knew I should have never participated in that debate,” he mutters to himself.  “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 “They haven’t stopped phoning the Mansion.” Hank says. “What are you going to do?”

Charles heaves a deep sigh. “Get a drink. And then I have a phone call to make.”

The professor glides out of the room, muttering to himself.

“Is there a phone in Cerebro?” Kitty asks.

“No.”

 

Charles hooks himself up to Cerebro and dives straight into the mind of Sabertooth, Erik’s most distasteful lackey. The man’s psychopathic mind-space always makes Charles’ skin crawl but Sabertooth has the easiest brain to hijack. He leaves a written message in handwriting Erik will recognize immediately and slides the note underneath the man’s bedroom door. Then he gets the hell back into his own mind and takes a long, hot bath.

Two nights later Charles sits in his study, fidgeting with the black king chess piece. No matter how many times Charles has arranged a meeting with Erik, each wait is positively nerve-wracking. Even after all these years, that first sight of Erik’s face leaves Charles breathless and the anticipation of it pulls Charles taut as a violin string. He can’t focus enough to read, every rumble of the wind or scratch of a tree branch makes him jump.

Finally, sometime past midnight, the window swings open silently and Erik floats through like a ghost. By this point Charles has started to nod off in his chair, but immediately snaps out of his drowsiness by the feel of Erik. Despite that cursed helmet, Charles always feels Erik’s presence -- not with his mind but with his gut, a primal, instinctual pull.

“You summoned me,” Erik says, voice heavy with irony.

His boots land on the carpet with a heavy thud. Even at this late hour, he is dressed in the full Magneto regalia that Charles loathes so much. The times that they met as just Charles and Erik have long past and Charles aches for them.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why you’re here,” Charles snaps. “It’s been all over the news.”

Erik settles in the arm chair opposite of Charles with a smirk. “Good.”

“ _Not_ good, Erik! I can’t stop you from flying off the handle about politicians or insults to your person, but this involves _me._ What that man said was not pleasant, I’ll admit, but it was none _your_ business.”

“Your involvement makes it every bit my business,” Erik growls. “It’s not like you would ever stand up to him yourself.”

Charles crosses his arms, offended. “Excuse you, but what do you think I did during that entire debate?”

Erik waves his hand dismissively. “Words. Words accomplish nothing, _clearly_. It did nothing to stop him.”

“Well at least words are better than endless violence! Really, Erik, I wish I could say I expected better from you. You know we have our differences. You _know_ I don’t want to be associated with your brand of terrorism. Will you not be satisfied until you drag my reputation in the mud with yours?”

Erik leans over the chessboard between them, the firelight glinting in his eyes making him look terrifying to behold indeed. Charles shivers.

 “He called you an abomination,” Erik hisses. “ _You_ , a curse from God! You, who have done more for his kind than his own goddamn politicians, who does so much selfless work for others! He should be kneeling at your feet, not condemning you. I will kill him before I allow your name to pass through his lips again!”

Charles swallows, heart leaping up into his throat. That Erik would get so offended for Charles’ sake, after all these years of bitter disagreements, is enough to soften Charles’ anger. Slowly he reaches across the chessboard and brushes his fingers over Erik’s white knuckle grip on the arm rest.

“It’s not worth it, Erik,” he says softly. “Wright is a pathetic, ignorant troll of a man and he doesn’t merit any more of my attention. He initiated that debate for attention and I was going to let this all blow over and watch him fall back into the obscurity he hates so much. I think that’s a more befitting punishment than blowing up his church.”

His fingers continue to stroke Erik’s weathered knuckles in soothing circles until Erik heaved a great sigh. He pulls his hand away before slowly, hesitantly, reaching up to take his helmet off. Charles’ heart breaks at the sight of Erik’s mussed hair, still so thick, the lines of the helmet etched into his skin, as it always does. Erik sets the helmet down in his lap and then tangles their fingers together.

“The humans can slander me as much as they please, but so help me God, Charles, they will never utter an unkind word about you. I will not have it.”

A smile threatens to destroy Charles’ scolding demeanor. He bites it back. “Erik, if you go through with this then you will prove Wright right. You will confirm all his baseless, demeaning ideas about mutants and he will reemerge with even more weapons to use against us. Don’t you see that?”

“If we do nothing, then every piece of human trash will think they can spout their ignorance without punishment!”

“They’re just words,” Charles reminds him. “Those don’t accomplish much, as you well know.”

Erik huffs in exasperation. “I hate it when you do that.”

“I know,” Charles says smugly.

They share smiles and Erik gestures at the chessboard.

“Shall we play a round?”

They settle into a slow, comfortable game. After so many years of playing together, they all each other’s tricks and tactics and games these days usually turn into a sluggish stalemate, but Charles doesn’t mind. Its familiarity brings him comfort and sometimes he can pretend that these games are just the last part of their nightly ritual, that Erik isn’t going to leave afterward.

But, of course, he does. After a long and merry chase, Charles tips over Erik’s king, secretly hoping that this victory over Erik might portend another in the future. Erik raises a sardonic eyebrow as if he heard such thoughts and Charles tries to keep his face open and innocent.

Erik snorts. “Well played, Charles. As usual.”

Charles bows his head. “And the same to you.”

Erik pushes his chair away and stands, bones creaking and joints snapping. His back pops as he reaches down for the helmet. As the cool metal slips over Erik’s head, the comfort of his presence disappears and he is like a void, a black hole, a corpse. Charles dreads this moment and loathes it and Erik knows it. He steps around the chessboard gather’s Charles’ hand into his own knobby fingers.

“Goodnight, Charles,” he murmurs and presses Charles’ fingers to his lips like a knight in a fairytale.

“Goodnight, Erik,” Charles whispers back. He finds that his eyes start to sting, which is utterly ridiculous because this moment has happened a hundred times at least but oh how he wishes Erik would stay. Charles grows so weary of missing him.

Though Erik can’t possibly hear these thoughts, the man must sense Charles’ melancholy for he smooths one of Charles’ eyebrows with a wide thumb and then tips Charles’ chin up to kiss him sweetly on the mouth. When he pulls away, Charles seizes Erik’s wrist.

“Please, Erik,” Charles whispers. “Consider what I said.”

Erik says nothing for a long moment, searching for something in Charles’ eyes, before sighing deeply. “I will try,” he says. “I will try.”

He gives Charles a swift peck on his smooth head and then leaves silently the way he came in.

Charles sighs and goes to bed, cautiously hopeful.

 

Two weeks later Wright appears at a public press conference and gives a long and rambling apology directed at Charles and donates a thousand dollars to the school. His face twists as he speaks, as if each word is a sour lemon he can’t force down, and he ducks immediately backstage before the reporters can explode on a round of questionings. Charles can only watch the man stumble around words he will never give with sincerity for so long before wheeling back down to Cerebro. He finds Erik’s mind in a rare, unguarded moment, reading alone in his lair. Or perhaps that was planned.

 _I thought you told me you would consider what I said_ Charles complains, making his irritation very clear through the psychic link.

 _I did_ says Erik, his mind all calm innocence. He takes a bite of a biscuit. _I rescinded my threat to that worm’s church, just as you wanted._

_Oh? Then how come his eyes darted around that press conference like a jumpy rabbit?_

_I might have conveniently forgotten to inform him of my decision_ Erik replies casually.

Charles rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the overwhelming fondness from spiking through the connection.

 _You’re an impossible man_ he tells Erik.   _. . .Thank you._

A wave of affection washes over Charles, warm as sunlight.

_You’re welcome, Charles._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
